What's cooking (good looking)
by river.and.the.doctor
Summary: Santana's obsession with the restaurant Breadstix is one of the few things that bring joy to her stressful life. That is until she meets chef Pierce and finds out that the food is not the only deliciously perfect thing there.
1. Chapter 1

**I decided to give writing a full story a try so here it is!**

**Hope you enjoy and by all means let me know what you think!**

**Big, huge, thanks to A who is a big inspiration for me and without whom I would never have the rest to sit my ass down and write :)**

Also, i don't own Glee or any of it's characters.

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**Part I**

**Spaghetti Carbonara**

The first time Santana falls in love it comes completely out of nowhere.

And yes, it might be true that one probably never sees love coming, but she can't help but think her case is a bit exceptional.

It happens on a Friday evening.

On one of those Friday evenings that make her want to throw something (or someone) out of her sixth story high office window.

Not surprisingly one of the new interns fucked up on some forms and she spend her whole day trying to fix their idiotic mistakes.

As if she isn't busy enough.

Somehow her boss always seems to think that he can just keep on piling work on her and expect her to be done with it in half the time the other employees get.

And then whenever it inevitably happens that she can't finish it on time the sexist asshole usually just shrugs and tells her that if she can't keep up she will just have to stay in late then.

Like she has nothing better to do on a Friday evening/night.

Ignorant ass.

She has places to be. People to see.

Who cares if those places happen to be her couch and those people happen to the characters in one of her favourite reality tv-shows.

It doesn't make her any less deserving of a weekend off without all the work stress.

No, she definitely deserves it to just slouch around all day long and pig out on the take out food she orders from one of the speed-dial numbers she has on her phone.

Especially now, when she's so freaking hungry that her stomach seems to be doing its best Chewbacca impression in protest of not being fed since the morning.

It's actually so bad that, when she finally takes the elevator down to the lobby and makes her way out on the street for her walk home, she feels like she might pass out soon if she doesn't hurry up and gets some form of nutrition inside her.

A quick mental calculation tells her that if she's lucky enough to find her car quickly and to hit light traffic she will be home in about 45 minutes.

Knowing this city and knowing its Friday eve buzz however makes those chances very slim to none and she guesses that those 45 minutes will probably be doubled at the least.

This little factoid makes her sigh out heavily, silently berating herself for once again forgetting to have a proper lunch.

It's not uncommon for her to forget things like this when she's in her work-zone and this is not the first time she has found herself in this oh-my-god-I'm-starving kind of situation.

However it's never been quite so bad before and she already feels a huge headache coming on.

With every step she takes she can feel something akin to a hammer smashing the inside of her scull and she knows that she needs to get her hands on the painkillers she keeps in her purse pronto.

As soon as she does though she realizes this brings along another kind of problem for her.

She is going to need water if she wants to have any chance of forcing these pills down her throat. Swallowing nasty things has never really been her forte, which is probably one of the reasons she turned out to be a lesbian.

Snorting at her own lame mental joke she quickly scans the street around her, hoping to find some place that has a rest-room where she can at least stick her face under the tap for some much needed water.

The only things she sees though are more office building and some small fast-food joints that look so nasty that she would rather die of starvation than go in there and risk getting some weird ass disease from all the germs there.

But then, just as she is about to give up hope and accept her faith of being bedridden by a headache for the whole eve, her eye suddenly falls on a little store front tucked away between a deli shop and an empty building.

In the front, right above the door, it reads 'Breadstix' in big, bold, and golden letters and god knows why Santana feels the need to walk towards it in order to inspect it a bit closer.

Based on her previous experience with the local cuisine in this neighbourhood she expects it is yet another greasy looking place filled with bums and other lowlifes.

Peering through the front window however she is surprised when she sees nothing but fancy decorations and tables filled with even fancier dressed people.

So amazed by her sudden discovery and driven by the constant pounding in her head she doesn't think a second before gathering her wits and marching right towards the door of the establishment, set on scoring herself some water and getting rid of this fucker of a headache.

Unfortunately her plan of making a beeline towards the rest-rooms is thwarted when as soon as she steps through the door she is confronted by an obnoxiously smiling woman.

"Hi can I help you?" the woman ask in a voice that matches her overly cheerful smile and that cuts through Santana's already painful head like a pair of razorblades.

The woman manages to annoy her even more as she seems to be actively getting in her way when she tries to get around her and eventually she simply snaps that she just needs to use the bathroom real quick.

"Oh I'm sorry" midget-lady tells her, still with that damn smile of hers "the bathroom is only meant for paying customers. However, if you wish I could check if we have any available tables for you at the moment."

"For fuck's sake" Santana groans, "Listen here you little hobbit. All I wants is some fucking water so I can take my damn painkillers to keep this bitch of a headache I'm having from getting any worse. And trust me, you do _not_ want to be around me when the headache really hits."

Ok, so maybe that was a little bit too harsh and uncalled for but right now she doesn't really care any more. All she is focussed on currently is feeling better asap.

Rachel (as she reads on her name tag) doesn't seem to mind however as her smile never falters and she simply repeats her statement about how the bathroom is only to be used by paying customers.

"I hope you understand ma'am" the brunette continues "You see, we do our best to keep everything hygienic and clean here in this restaurant and when people just come in here willy nilly to make use of our establishments rest-rooms we can no longer guarantee the level of cleanliness we-"

To keep the other woman from yapping on any longer Santana quickly holds up her hand, palm facing front, effectively silencing her (thank god). "You know what lady, just get me a damn table and a glass of water pronto. I'll even pay for it so you can unbunch those polka dotted panties of yours now."

The midget for her part keeps perfect composure and swiftly turns around to check the reservation book before facing her again an uttering a cheerful "follow me."

Santana dutifully follows her through the restaurant, looking around and wondering how she hasn't noticed such a nice establishment this close to her work before.

"Here you go" Rachel tells her when they have reached an empty table set for two, "A waiter will be with you shortly."

With that the latina is left alone for the time being and with a heavy sigh she pulls back the chair in front of her and sinks down into it.

Now that she is finally seated and can rub her temples to alleviate the headache her hunger seems to return tenfold. The amazing food-smells wafting around not helping much either.

Before she can really focus on it any longer however another person suddenly appears at the side of her table.

"Good evening madam. My name is Mike and I will be your waiter tonight" The Asian looking guy tells her while laying a menu in front of her. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"

As planned she orders a glass of water and Mike swiftly goes to get it with a smile on his face.

Remembering her hunger she also chances a look in the menu he gave her, thinking she can just stick to her water if she doesn't find anything to her liking on it.

Luckily she is pleasantly surprised when she sees that it is in fact filled with all kinds of dishes that despite their weird-ass names look absolutely delicious (praise Jesus for the little pictures of every dish).

When Mike returns she has already decided to go for the Spaghetti Carbonara since it's one of the few things on the menu of which she recognizes the name and also because she is pretty much convinced no one can manage to make pasta taste bad.

As Mike sets down her water and an extra basket of bread sticks she tells him her order and just like that he is off again.

She quickly grabs her painkillers again and downs them quickly with the help of her drink. Then she figures she might as well munch on the breadsticks that were given to her and when she grabs one and brings it to her mouth she has to do her utter best not to moan out loud at how damn good they taste.

Fuck.

This seriously tastes so freaking good that she honestly feels like some angels just came down and pissed in her mouth.

How does one manage to make something as simple as a breadstick taste so amazing?

Santana sure as fuck doesn't know nor does she really care because as she is still having a somewhat orgasmic experience over them she can already see Mike coming her way, holding a steaming plate of food.

Her stomach grumbles loudly as he reaches her table and the smell of the pasta enters her nostrils.

"Enjoy your dinner ma'am" he tells her with a laugh obviously having heard it too.

She mumbles a quick thanks and then doesn't even wait for him to fully leave before digging in.

This time she really moans out loud.

"Holy fucking shit" she chokes out around a mouth full of spaghetti, not even caring about making a fool of herself as she hears Mike laughing softly to himself while walking away from her table.

Never before has she tasted anything this good (recent breadsticks included) and she briefly wonders if it's just because she has been so hungry. The thought is dismissed quickly though because she knows that even if she had eaten right before coming here this would have still tasted absolutely amazing.

It doesn't take her long to wolf down her meal and the thought of licking her plate clean actually crosses her mind.

It seems a bit silly to her now, feeling so euphoric about food. But she can't help it, she needs more of it like right now and she knows now for sure that no Spaghetti Carbonara will ever compare to the one she just had.

So yeah, the first time Santana falls in love it is with a perfect and godly tasting dish.

She knows it's weird and silly but for now she really doesn't care.

Right now all she cares about is waving Mike over and getting some more of this little piece of heaven inside of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there!**

Wow already quite a bunch of followers, thank you so much!

**Here is another chapter. Still Santana centered but don't worry her and Britt will meet soon!**

I don't own Glee or any of it's characters

* * *

**Part II**

**Breadsticks**

"Hi miss Lopez!" Rachel greets her the minute she steps through the door and Santana actually feels a bit embarrassed that by now she has visited the restaurant so often that the hobbit has remembered her name.

It makes her feel better though when she is able to just smile at the other woman and stride right on through the little waiting area and head to her table.

Yes she has her own table now.

Well, sort of at least.

A few weeks ago, when she called in to make a reservation for the fifth Friday evening in a row, Rachel had offered her to just write in her name for every Friday eve. A chance that Santana had jumped on since it would save her the trouble of calling every time and also from the risk of there being no table available for her.

God forbid if she didn't get her weekly Breadstix dose.

As she makes her way towards the usual table in the back and sits down she uses the time it takes Mike to get to her to look around.

Seeing that she's actually starting to recognize some of the faces of the other customers makes her feel less unselfconscious about the fact that she herself is a regular too.

Also in a weird way it kind of soothes her to have some sort of familiarity around her.

Not that she actually interacts with any of the other restaurant-goers, but she does like watching them in secret.

The group of four business men that always sit a few tables over and make the loudest and most unfunny jokes. The man and woman that - she has noticed - are both married to other people but are way too intimate together to just be friends. The old man in the corner that always eats by himself and very rarely looks up from the book he is currently reading.

It's like her own personal little soap opera, only much less dramatic.

After a busy work week she likes just being able to watch and not think too much. It calms her down and it's weird to say but the strangers in this restaurant and the atmosphere of this whole place make her feel more relaxed and good than she has felt in a long time.

Sometimes she wonders if it does the same to other people.

She thinks it does though. Everyone always seems to be smiling here and the beautiful and serene look of the room just has that kind of effect on people.

The restaurant is dimly lit and on every table a small candle is burning, giving it a kind of glowing and intimate look. The furniture is made of some kind of dark coloured wood (walnut she guesses) and the tables are covered by neat white tablecloths. Furthermore there seem to be a lot of flowers – namely white roses - everywhere and besides the amazing smells coming from the kitchen it makes the place smell absolutely perfect.

Honestly, in her opinion one would have to be absolutely bonkers to not love this place as much as she does. But then again, she admits, maybe she is a bite more obsessed about it all than would usually be deemed normal.

She feels like she can't be blamed however since the food here is to die for and is - as she concluded today during a boring meeting – better than 95% of the sex she has had in her whole 24 years of life.

It isn't clear to her exactly why but she can't seem to stop thinking about all the delicious things this restaurant serves. In the mornings she wishes she could have breakfast here, during the days she has to force herself to keep working and not go out to have lunch and in the eves she counts down the days until it is Friday again.

So yeah, maybe she is in fact a teeny tiny bit over-involved in Breadstix.

Luckily she doesn't really care.

Especially not now. When she sees the familiar sight of Mike, dressed in all black skinny jeans and a blouse, approaching her.

"Hey Santana" he greets her with a silly grin once he is close enough to her table.

"Sup Mike" she greets back as he places the standard basket of breadsticks on her table. "How's the girlfriend doing?"

This makes Mike's grin turn a bit shy and Santana can't help but smirk in return. Her and Mike have formed some sort of bond over the last few weeks that's mainly based on light banter and teasing.

So now, whenever she gets the chance to bug him about his totally obvious crush he has on Tina (one of the other waiters) she makes full use of it.

"You know she's not my girlfriend" he gripes back with a mixture of good natured annoyance and humour. "What can I get you?" he continues, obviously wanting to switch from conversation topic lest one of the other waiters walking around overhears.

The latina chuckles at his at his sort-of cuteness and decides to spare him (for now) and swiftly orders a glass of sweet white wine and the Acqua Pazza with cod and carrots.

As soon as Mike nods and then walks off towards the kitchen again she digs into the breadsticks he brought with him.

Smiling when they still taste as amazing as they did the last time.

While chomping away she once again takes her time to glance around, enjoying herself with such a mundane and uncomplicated act. It makes for a refreshing difference to her super stressful work days.

When she is just over half way through her basket of yummy sticks Mike reappears again with her glass of one and – lo and behold – another basket.

She looks at him confused as he sets both down in front of her and this time it's his turn to smirk smugly at her. "More breadsticks for the miss Lopez. Compliments of the chef." he tells her cheerfully.

"Compliments of the chef?" she asks dumbly in return, blinking in confusion. Why would the chef – whom she doesn't even know – send her more breadsticks? Especially when she has never seen anyone else get more of them before.

It makes Mike chuckle at her amusedly and it is clear he can hardly contain his laughter when he produces his next sentence.

"Chef Pierce noticed you always seem to empty your basket in under five minutes so she decided to have you bring me another one."

This renders Santana speechless for the moment being and she can feel her cheeks flush in embarrassment, something she hopes her skin tone hides well enough.

Spluttering unintelligibly it takes her a few seconds to gather her bearings and she is sure it's very noticeable that she has been thrown for a loop when Mike is still sporting that damn smirk of his.

When the situation fully sinks in however, a scowl quickly appears on her face. "Are you fucking calling me a gobbler Mike?" she asks sharply not at all amused that apparently not only has the chef been spying on her but also has been tracking her amount of food intake.

Creepy much.

Being used to the latina's temper by now the waiter just shakes his head in denial and tells her that chef Pierce actually took her breadsticks enthusiasm as a compliment before plopping the extra basket on the table with the comment to "take 'em or leave 'em" and hurrying off again to so serve some people that just came in.

Santana watches him go, still frowning and feeling slightly offended.

As she looks at the seconds basked of delicious smelling sticks in front of her she briefly contemplates refusing to eat them in order to preserve her pride somewhat.

However as she casts a look towards the door she suspects leads to the kitchen and finding no spying eyes there she decides to just go ahead and eat them.

Free breadsticks after all...

So once again she relaxes back into her chair, enjoying the taste of them while glancing around in wait for her real food to arrive.

She does however make sure to throw Mike a dirty look whenever he looks her way.

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**Hope you guys enjoyed. let me know what you think!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there again!**

**Wow, thanks for all those follows, favorites and reviews! There are way more than I had ever expected!**  
**You guys are really sweet and bring a smile to my face!**

**Anyways here is a new chapter, hope you guys enjoy!**

I don't own Glee or its characters

* * *

**Part III**

**Cassata**

The next time Santana enters the restaurant she is in a truly horrible mood and as soon as Rachel opens her mouth to greet her in that nerve grinding voice of hers she snarls a short "shut it buckbeak" her way.

Luckily it shuts her up this time.

When she reaches her usual table after marching through the room and glaring anyone who even dared to smile at her she plops down in her chair without any of the usual sophistication she normally tries to show.

Rubbing her temples she groans miserably when she looks back on the awful day she has had.

It all started in the morning when she had basically been jumped by her neighbours beast of a dog upon exciting her apartment. Causing her pristine black pants-suit to be completely covered in, very noticeable, dog hairs.

Then when she had finally arrived at work 30 minutes late due to the the unplanned wardrobe change she had been greeted by a huge stack of papers and files on her desk. Accompanied by a note from her boss to 'sort through these and have a recap on his desk by Monday.'

And as if that wasn't enough cockshite for one day she had been called into a mandatory and completely useless 2.5 hour long meeting that her boss had been too 'busy' (probably playing golf) for to attend himself.

She's pretty sure that by now she can say goodbye to her weekend completely, knowing that she will spend most of it working without even getting payed one single penny.

It frustrates and pisses her off to no end and on days like these there is nothing she wants to do more than tell her pompous butt pirate of a boss to shove her contract up his ass and to never come back there again.

Unfortunately though her boss – no matter how much of a douche nozzle he actually is – is in fact the owner of one of the most successful law-practises in New York and seeing as she is still working her way to the top quitting is really not an option.

Accepting her fate with a sigh she leans over to open her briefcase, taking out some of the papers she took with her. She knows a restaurant really isn't the place to do work but it was either this or going home to work and order take out.

Seeing as this restaurant always makes her feel better and she could really use a pick-me-up she figured going in was the best of the two options.

A few minutes later, when Mike arrives at her table to take her order, she is so deeply immersed in reading one of her case files that she barely manages to order something absent-mindedly.

She is so occupied in fact that she isn't even sure what she ordered exactly. Though it doesn't really worry her because so far everything here has tastes absolutely amazing.

For the next 45 minutes she reads through two of the files and takes notes diligently. Her food has arrived already but as she sits bend over her work with a deep frown edged on her face she mostly forgets to eat.

When she finally does take a break however she is sad to notice the dish in front of her has for a large part gone cold.

Taking a few quick bites as to not waste all of the food she rubs at her temples again. She's not surprised that she feels a headache coming on, it has been a pretty regular occurrence ever since she started her job a few months ago.

To her slight happiness she is starting to feel a bit better again now that she has been out of the office for a while and has some actual food inside of her.

Unfortunately though this happiness is short lived because as soon as she quits massaging her head and reaches for her wine glass (while using her other hand to stuff some more food in her mouth) she knocks over the whole damn thing.

Wine spills all over the table and her work notes as she curses loudly.

She can already see the red wine staining the pearly white tablecloth and she quickly jumps up, snatching her papers of the now drenched surface.

It's too late however because the papers too are now turning a nice bright red.

"Fuck dammit" she curses again not even caring about the other people's appalled expressions.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mike and some other girl she doesn't know rush over with cloths in their hands.

And as they reach her they start dabbing away most of the wine quickly.

Mike asks her if she is all right and all she does is nod dumbly while apologizing profusely. "I'm such a fucking idiot" she adds for good measure, knowing that if she had actually been paying attention to her actions this wouldn't have happened.

"Don't worry about it Santana. Really, this sort of thing happens all the time" the Asian boy reassures her as he and the other waitress strip the table of its tablecloth.

Santana smiles meekly back at him still feeling like moron but at least glad the personnel of the restaurant doesn't seem to mind.

Shifting her gaze from the disaster she made at the table to the notes in her hand she groans loudly when she sees that by now they are completely ruined too.

The wine has made all of the ink run, rendering the notes she made earlier totally useless. To her slight relieve the case files seem fine though so instead of having to go to the office again to get copies of them she will just have to start her note-taking process all over again.

"I'm having the worst fucking day ever" she sighs to Mike, tossing her ruined notes in a nearby trash can.

He smiles at her sympathetically, sends the other waitress away to go take care of the dirty cloths and starts resetting the table.

"Sorry to hear that you are not having your day today" he tells her while pulling her chair back. "Why don't you sit back down and relax while I will get you a new glass of wine, free of charge."

Santana does as she is told, too worn down to argue, and sends him a grateful smile.

Her original plan had been to just go to the restaurant, eat, get out of there and head home to work as soon as possible. For now she doesn't give a flying fuck though. Work can wait. First she needs to unwind a bit and forget about this whole day before she snaps and either starts crying or starts throwing dinner plates against the wall.

She slumps in her chair sloppily, glaring at anyone who is still staring at her after her little outburst just now. If people know what's good for them they better leave her the hell alone right now.

After a few minutes the waitress that was helping Mike appears in front of her wearing a nervous smile, clearly not wanting the wrath of auntie Snix to be bestowed upon her.

"Hi miss Lopez?" she greets/asks while shifting on her feet.

At this the latina tries her best to smile encouragingly. Knowing that it's not this girls fault her day is crap and that she was at least nice enough to help Mike without complaint.

Seeing this as the go-ahead she wanted the waitress smiles back and places a new class of wine on the table together with what appears to be a small sort of cake.

"Your wine and a Cassata miss" the girl stutters out, "compliments of chef Pierce, she also told me to tell you to 'cheer up buttercup'."

After that the waitress hightails herself away from there, obviously feeling a little intimidated.

Letting the words she just heard sink in Santana glances at the little cake in front of her, only now noticing there is a smiley face made out of icing on the top of it.

It strikes her as a bit weird that first the chef send out extra breadsticks for her and now this. She briefly wonders is chef Pierce is some kind of creeper that gets off on having her eat stuff.

Then she shakes the thought. She knows she is probably being silly and that these people are probably just genuinely _that_ nice. Something she is not at all used to in her line of work.

Besides" never look a gift horse in the mouth and all...

Now, the longer she stares at the little smiley face the cuter it seems to get. After a while she almost starts feeling bad for having to cut into it in order to eat it.

Almost though because with a tiny smile she eventually picks up the little fork that's on the plate too and uses it to take a smile bite of the cake.

Her smile growing as she enjoys the rich taste of cake, fruits, nuts and a little tinge of liquor. Not at all aware about the gleaming pair of cheerful blue eyes watching her carefully.

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**Don't worry, Britt and Santana will meet for sure in the next part! ;)**

**Any comments/suggestions etc. are more than welcome!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there!**

**I wanted to be done with this chapter sooner than today but unfortunately life got in the way.  
Luckily I managed to finish it just now though and I decided to put it up immediately.**

**Thanks again for all the follows/favorites/reviews. They make my day every time!**

Hope you guys enjoy! 

p.s. I don't own Glee or any of the characters. 

* * *

**Part IV**

**Minestrone**

It is Friday again and even though officially the weekend is only a mere one and a half hour away Santana is still busting her balls behind her desk.

Most of her colleagues have already gone home by now, enjoying their early weekend, but she was set on finishing her tasks as to not have a repeat of last weeks work-filled weekend.

While typing away on her office computer she glances at the clock from time to time. Her weekly reservation at Breadstix is at six and by now she is starting to doubt if she will make it in time.

Of course she can take her work with her to the restaurant if she wants but knowing how well that worked out before she decides it's not such a fantastic idea.

When the clock hits a quarter past five and she estimates she has about two more hours of work left at the least she admits to herself that today she probably will not have her amazingly perfect food.

Sighing in disappointment and letting her shoulders drop she reaches for her phone in order to at least call the restaurant and have them cancel her reservation (she is at least polite enough to do that).

After the third ring the phone is picked up and a female voice, that she of course recognizes immediately, greets her.

"Good afternoon, you have called Breadstix. This is Rachel speaking. How may I help you?" the brunette on the other side of the line spews out.

"Hi Rachel it's me" Santana responds not bothering to even say her name.

This however obviously confuses the other woman because from the other line comes a hesitant "Excuse me, may I ask who this is?"

At this the latina rolls her eyes, thinking by now she and Rachel have talked often enough for her to recognize her voice. For gods sake, she almost talks more often to the annoying midget than she does her best friend Quinn.

"Forgotten me already Frodo?" she shoots back dryly.

It's silent for a few beats but then Santana hears "Hi miss Lopez."

It causes her to smirk, knowing that Rachel has gotten quite used to her insults by now but also confident that she doesn't seem to mind that much.

"Hey" she says back "Listen, I was just calling to cancel my reservation for tonight, I'll be -"

Before she can finish her explanation Rachel's gasp travels through the line and is followed by a worried "Are you all right?"

Now Santana feels a bit offended because yes, she knows she is obsessed with Breadstix, but no she doesn't need Rachel rubbing it in her face like that.

"Shut it!" she thus snaps back "If you had let me finish I would have fucking told you that I will be stuck at work the whole eve. So just cancel my damn reservation for the night and I will see you again next week. I can't wait."

And on that final sarcastic gripe she presses the little red horn on the phone, effectively hanging up.

She sighs heavily knowing that she probably overreacted a tiny bit but she can't really help it. In her daily life she is already high strung enough and somehow the brunette restaurant host just seems to get on her nerves more easily than anyone else does (except of course her boss).

Rolling her shoulders in order to get rid of some of the tension in them she does her best to push down the slight disappointment she feels at not getting her weekly dose of Breadstix.

When she feels a bit better and more calm she gets on working again, silently hoping she will be done soon.

An hour later she is so completely emerged in reading some emails that her heart practically jumps out of her chest when her desk-phone rings loudly.

"Jesus fuck" she mumbles to herself before picking up and answering with her usual short "Lopez speaking."

The line crackles a bit and then she hears the familiar cheery voice of Joe, a security guard at the company. "Hi miss Lopez. It is Joe. Sorry to bother you during work but there had been a delivery for you."

Thinking it's a bit weird to get a package delivered this late but knowing that Joe wouldn't lie to her Santana promises him she will be right down.

Keeping true to her promise the latina thus gets up and heads to the elevator in order to make her way downstairs to the front desk where she knows Joe will be.

Joe is the office's night security guard who usually arrives when all regular employees have already left. However, since Santana is definitely no stranger to working over time, she and Joe see each other on a regular basis.

He is a really nice and good guy and she has grown quite fond of his seemingly always cheerful mood and funny stories.

It always cheers her up after a hard days work.

When the elevator touches ground-floor and she steps out she is greeted by the sight of Joe sitting at the front desk and tossing a little ball against the opposite wall, catching it and then tossing it again.

"Hey there Michael Jordan" she greets him as she approaches him, her high heels clicking against the marble floor.

In turn he catches the little ball for the last time and turns towards her.

"Good evening miss Lopez" he replies, showing off his pearly white teeth with a wide grin.

Almost automatically Santana smiles back before telling him for the hundredth time to call her Santana instead of miss Lopez. Then, eyeing the white plastic bag she hadn't noticed before on the desk she follows up with a curious "So what have you got for me?"

"I don't know miss Lopez" he responds, grinning cheekily when the latina throws him a warning look at his use of a formal title for her. "Some girl just dropped this off and told me it was for you. You didn't order anything?"

Santana shakes her head no and inches closer to the bag. Kind of suspicious about what it could be now.

As she opens it a bit to see she is greeted by a cylindrical container and when she lifts it out of the bag she feels it contains some kind of warm liquid. A liquid that, as she looks closer and through the transparent lid on the top of the container, seems to be soup of some kind.

Frowning in confusion she peeks into the bag again, looking for some more clues as to why this was delivered for her.

In there she finds one plastic spoon and a folded piece of paper.

When she takes that out and slowly unfolds it she can – for some reason – feel her heart beat in her throat. She doesn't really know why she feels anxious though. After all how much excitement or danger can a container of soup really bring?

None of course.

Boy was she wrong.

It's all she can think as her heels once again clock roughly on the floor. This time not against a marble floor though but against the street pavement.

Waving her way in and out of the Friday eve foot-traffic she makes her way along the street her office is on.

She has a clear destination in mind.

Namely Breadstix.

The glare on her face intensifies as she recalls why she is on a war-path now and what exactly was on the note that came with her unexpected delivery.

_'Hi Santana,_

_Rachel told me you were too busy at work today to come in. _

_I'm very sorry to hear that! I hope this minestrone will make it a bit better._

_See you next week!_

_Brittany S. Pierce_

_p.s. Mike knew where you worked, hope it's ok!'_

Is what it had read in scrawly blue lettering and it had made Santana's breath hitch in the back of her throat.

A thousand thoughts had run to her head at that point, each of them with varying degrees of clarity. The ones that stuck out the most though were memories of recent times.

Memories about the extra breadsticks, the cassata and about how Mike had told her that chef Pierce had been watching her, had all flashed before her eyes. And then, as her sight had focussed on the minestrone again her thoughts had taken on a totally different direction.

Namely the direction in which chef Brittany S. Pierce was some kind of creepy, dangerous, knife wielding stalker.

In her mind she could totally imagine the broad-shouldered mean-looking, ex-con chef staring at her from the kitchen all the while sharpening those big ass chopping knifes of hers.

This image of course hadn't pleased Santana one bit and without any sort of doubt or hesitation and ignoring Joe's questions she had turned around had marched herself out of her office building. Set on telling chef Pierce once and for all to stop acting like a fucking lunatic and to leave her the hell alone. Scary knife-skills be damned.

Thus here she was, a few meters away from Breadstix and still in a full on power walk.

Not hesitating one second as she reaches the door she grabs the handle and throws it open.

As she marches through the front part of the restaurant she can vaguely hear Rachel address her but she has no idea what the brunette is saying, nor does she actually care.

When she is in the middle of the room and just a few feet away from the door that leads to the kitchen she does however hear Mike.

"Santana! Stop!" he yells at her while running towards her. He isn't stupid and has of course noticed that she is not here for a friendly visit but is actually on a mission.

In turn Santana tries her best to ignore him too because she knows he will probably try to keep her from entering the kitchen like she wants to.

Her thinking proves to be spot on when as soon as her arm stretches out to grab the kitchen-door handle he throws his body against it.

"Step away Mike" she all but growls, highly agitated that her plan seems to be thwarted.

The boy doesn't listen though and, while still leaning back against the dark wooden barrier behind him , he tries his best to appear casual when asking her what she is doing here tonight.

It only serves to frustrate the latina even more because she is seriously getting fed up with all this mystery (and creepiness) that surrounds chef Pierce. If she is being stalked and ogled she at least deserves to know who the culprit is after all!

Giving Mike her best glare she menacingly tells him "You know damn well what the fuck I'm doing rice cake! I'm going to tell that ex-con, psychopath Pierce woman to leave me the fuck alone."

Mike visibly pales at her harsh words and attitude but to her surprise he does have the balls to keep barricading the door.

"Now calm down Santana. I think you have the wrong idea here" he tells her with a shaky voice and if she wasn't seeing red right now Santana is sure she would have at least sort of enjoyed the way Mike is shaking in his boots.

Before she can retort or – better yet – physically drag Mike away from his place as kitchen-guardian luck is on her side as at that exact moment the door the boy is leaning against is pushed towards him. Causing him to stumble away in surprise as the door opens towards them and one of the other waiters walks out of the kitchen.

Santana sees this as the one chance she needs and before Mike can fully right himself again she slips past the other waiter and right into the room that was her destination.

As soon as she enters the kitchen she is overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of it all.

She immediately feels the heat that comes from the various ovens and stoves wafting towards her and her nose is attacked by many different smells. That together with the fact that there are kitchen-staff and waiters walking around and yelling like crazy everywhere gives the room an overall sense of pure chaos.

Yet, there is one exception.

There in the middle of the kitchen is a woman. Wearing a white uniform, a white cooking hat and sporting a blonde side braid.

Her back is towards Santana so she can't actually see much of the blonde haired woman. What the latina can see however is that amidst all this commotion the woman seems to be perfectly calm. She is not running around or screaming or anything, she is working hard yes, but she moves with grace and confidence. It's almost as if she's dancing through the kitchen space and using the pots, pans and knives as props for this act.

It's weirdly calming and somewhere in the back of her mind Santana can't help but think that a woman like that fits this restaurant perfectly in all her graceful beauty.

She is also vaguely aware that by now Mike is standing behind her, having followed her into the kitchen. It doesn't really worry her though because somehow all of her being has focused itself on the sight currently in front of her.

Nevertheless her unconsciousness has not been completely shut off from other things outside the blonde haired woman. Because the words "chef Pierce" in the voice of Mike actually do register in her brain.

It's only when his words cause the said woman to turn around towards them that her brain shorts circuits and ceases to function, refusing to fully process the sight it is seeing.

The sight of the most amazingly bluest eyes Santana has ever seen in her life.

* * *

**As usual: tips and/or comments are very welcome!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey there!**

**Wow! almost 150 followers and lots of favourites and reviews! Thank you so much guys!**  
**You guys are awesomesauce!**

**Hope you will enjoy this chapter!**

I don't own Glee or it's characters.

* * *

**Part V**

******Peppermint mocha**

Chinese take out is a bitch.

Actually, any kind of take out is.

All of it – no matter if it's Burger King, KFC, Chinese or Indian – is all soggy and greasy and tastes like shit.

Now normally Santana wouldn't make such a big deal out of this, the easiness of take out far outweighs the importance of taste normally. However since she got used to eating amazing-ass restaurant food nothing seems to compare.

Breadstix has completely ruined her life...

Maybe it's a bit dramatic yes, but it is how she feels right now. Wrapped up in a blanket on her couch while watching Friends reruns and eating noodles out of a little cardboard tub.

It's a Saturday afternoon – a free afternoon incredibly – and she hasn't eaten any Breadstix in two weeks and twenty hours. She now remembers that last cassata fondly and regrets it deeply that last week she left the minestrone for Joe.

She can't help but involuntarily cringe a bit when she thinks back to last week's Friday.

In hindsight storming into a restaurant's kitchen like that may not have been the smartest idea ever.  
Especially not if all you are going to do is lock eyes with the chef and then run out again like a frightened little puppy in a thunderstorm. Knocking over a waitress carrying many plates of food in the process wasn't one of her proudest moments either.

Fucking embarrassing is what it is.

What makes it even worse is that she knows there is only one person to blame for the incident. Namely she herself.

After a talk with her best friend Quinn where she got called an overreacting hot-head and after a phone call from Rachel that was less than pleasant (is there any other kind with Rachel?) Santana came to the conclusion that she possibly, maybe overreacted a tiny, little bit to the situation...

Accusing someone who is just trying to be nice of being some kind of stalker or murderer and then ruining the food they made is not really a decent thing to do.

So the latina does know she probably needs to apologize to chef blue eyes (a.k.a. chef Pierce) at some point. However, her damn pride keeps getting in the way. It's the reason why she was too scared to even go have dinner last night and the reason why she is now eating disgusting take out instead of heavenly Breadstix left overs.

She sighs heavily, not really paying attention to what drama Ross and Rachel are going through on her television screen but rather focussed on how she is going to fix her own bout of drama.

* * *

Her chance for redemption comes quite unexpectedly on the next Tuesday morning.

She is on her way to work, walking on the side-walk with a peppermint mocha frappuccino in her hand and enjoying the fresh air and calm that comes with this early hour.

She is half an hour earlier than usual because she wants to quickly clean her office before normal work starts. Keeping a tidy office is not really her forte after all and she hates having the office cleaners go through her stuff (and finding the numerous candy bar wrappers in her top desk drawer).

Anyhow, it's the reason why the streets are relatively quiet right now and she takes the opportunity to look around and enjoy the scenery. It's one of those moments in which she remembers exactly why she moved to New York in the first place.

Still, letting her eyes roam as she walks past the entrance to an alleyway she notices something curious and for some reason it catches her attention enough to stop her in her tracks.

In the alleyway that runs parallel to the main street a big, white van is parked and as she inspects closer she notices a loading dock at the back of one of the buildings that is opened wide.

Normally this wouldn't really be a big deal because after all there are a lot of deli's and snack bars on this street that need stuff brought in daily.  
What makes it a bit more significant though is the fact that Santana is pretty sure that it's not just any shop that the car is parked in front. No, it is parked right at where Breadstix is and she would bet her whole Buffy DVD collection that the loading dock is actually an entrance to the restaurant.

Upon realising this her body seems to automatically turn so she is facing the alleyway fully.

She hesitates a bit on what to do next. Whether she should just head to work and forget about this or if she should take this situation to her advantage.  
After all, this could be her only chance to apologize to chef Pierce without having to force her way into the kitchen again like last time. Hell, she isn't even 100% sure if she is allowed in the building ever again.

Remembering how sweet and genuine the blonde chef had seemed in even a few seconds of watching her Santana eventually decides to, for once, swallow down her pride and to do the right thing this time.

Taking a deep, calming breath she starts her walk towards the restaurant.

Her heart is pounding in her throat and she takes extra caution to not make too much noise. She is not sure why she is being so careful but she thinks it's because she pretty much made herself appear to be an out of control she-Hulk the last time.  
A repeat of that is definitely not part of her plans.

As she gets closer to the open door she can hear some banging and scuffing noises coming from inside. And when she peers into the back of the van she sees a bunch of boxes and crates full of produce and other kinds of food products.

For some reason it makes her a bit nervous and unsure. What if chef Pierce isn't even here and there is only a supplier delivering food? She will certainly come off as some kind of criminal if she sneaks into the loading dock of a restaurant and gets caught by someone who doesn't know her.

On the other hand, who is to say chef Pierce won't have her arrested either? Because really, Santana is the one that forced her way into the kitchen and is now also about to trespass into someone else's building.

Torn apart by her ever over-worrying mind it takes her a while to notice that the sounds coming from the open door have changed.

Instead of the clanging she heard before she can now hear a soft, smooth voice when she listens carefully.

It peaks her curiosity to ginormous highs because somehow she just knows that that voice belongs to none other than chef Pierce. It's a bit weird she guesses since she never even heard the voice that belongs to those gorgeous blue eyes and blonde hair but somehow she just knows.

The voice fits a kind, graceful and beautiful woman. And that's exactly what chef Brittany S. Pierce is.

For some reason the sound of it calls out to the latina like a siren call. So without much of a second thought she lets go of her usual tendency to mull things over and over again (and to overreact) and steps inside.

A few seconds long she doesn't see anything, her eyes needing to adjust to the transition of different light intensity between the outside world and the inside of the building.

While her vision takes a few seconds to sharpen again she takes in the delicious smell that hangs in the air, it's a sure sign that she is in fact inside Breadstix.

When she can see clearly again she notices that she is in a small and narrow sort of hallway with two doors leading away from it.  
One of the doors is a heavy wooden one and judging by the look of the lock on it she guesses it's a bathroom.

The other door is the most interesting one. It is made out of stainless steel with a little round window at eye level , and - most importantly – it is opened just a bit.

Obviously this is where the sounds she heard outside are coming from as Santana can hear the sweet voice from before much more clearly now.

She still can not hear nearly enough though because now it is just a soft murmur that she hears and not exact words. Thus Santana slowly creeps closer.

It doesn't even cross her mind any more that she is being a total weirdo, sneaking up on someone she doesn't even really know like this. All she is focussed on now is getting to that door and seeing chef Pierce and hear her talk for the very first time ever.

Also she has to apologize of course.

When she reaches the door the talking has unfortunately stopped and the clanging and banging noises have started up again. She doesn't even have to be quiet now to go unnoticed since the sounds coming from the other side of the door are loud enough to mask it.

She briefly contemplates what her next move should be now. Whether she should knock before going into the kitchen or just enter without.

Her eventual decision is to just go in since her knock probably won't be heard anyway and she also wants to first take a peek and see who is there with chef Pierce. God knows she is in no mood to face Smeagol (i.e. Rachel) if she is in there too.

Gathering her courage Santana slowly pushes the door open further. Revealing the somewhat familiar kitchen full of big silver coloured appliances.

Her searching eyes quickly settle on a figure in the middle of the kitchen and she immediately recognizes the person as none other than chef blue eyes.  
The blonde hair and that cute little hat and coat haven't really left the latina's mind for a week and now seeing them again they bring a small smile to her face.

The chef – who appears to be alone - for her turn is completely oblivious that she is being watched as she is busy emptying a plastic bag and stuffing it's content in the many cupboards and the fridge, all the while cutely wiggling her ass to some imaginary beat.

Of course Santana's eyes automatically drift down to said body part and she feels a sharp twinge in the pit of her stomach.

Holy smokes Batman, that's a good ass!

Almost choking on her own tongue Santana suddenly coughs, her body fighting to keep breathing normally.

The sound of it is of course to her luck louder than the clanging sounds and to her mortification the other women lets out a loud gasp and whirls around with big, scared eyes and a hand grabbing at her chest.

Santana feels like a complete idiot by now. Standing there in the kitchen doorway, peppermint mocha still in her hand and with a face that she is sure matches that of a little kid that just got caught with it's hand in the cookie jar.

She has no idea what to say now and all she can do is mentally kick herself for not thinking things through completely.

For the second time ever chef Pierce has rendered her completely speechless.

It's a frustrating thing for her, the badass new lawyer that always has her sharp wit ready to lash out at or charm anyone she wishes to. Feeling insecure and confused like this is a very uncomfortable thing right now.

Not that it matters even a tiny bit.

Not when chef Pierce overcomes her initial shock - her shoulders noticeably relaxing - and then smiles very, very widely.

Her smile is even better than her ass.

All joyful, with pearly white teeth and causing her eyes to scrunch up cutely. Santana's heart very nearly stops at seeing it and she is pretty sure she is two seconds away from an actual heart attack when the blonde suddenly speaks.

"Hi Santana!" Is her cheerful greeting as if they have known each other for years and without any further ado she strides across the room to grab the latina's hand and to drag her over to a kitchen stool to push her onto it.

"Sit" she half commands half suggests before turning around again and rooting in the plastic bag that is still on one of the counters.

Out come two tomatoes held by the chef. However they are quickly pushed in Santana's only empty hand.

"They had two different kinds of tomatoes at the market today. Taste and let me know which one you like best!" the blonde happily tells her before setting out to continue putting away the other products.

The latina blinks slowly, her brain having some trouble to catch up to the current situation. When it does though she dutifully puts down her coffee and eyes the two tomatoes in her hand.

They look exactly the same and she didn't even know that tomatoes could really taste different. A tomato is a tomato after all right?

She feels a bit helpless now and it makes her uncomfortable and in a way a tad ashamed. She knows she has made a fool out of herself already and she doesn't want to make it even worse. Especially when in the company of such a stunning woman that has the talent to turn any dish into a master piece.

Brittany seems to notice apparently because the blonde turns back around again and gives her a big smile once more.

"Go ahead and bite into them!" she tells her happily "If there are any seeds in them you can spit them out or eat them. I promise they won't taste yucky!"

That encouragement is enough for Santana and with chef Pierce's laughing blue eyes on her she takes a bite of the tomato in her left hand.

Upon that bite tomato juice dribbles down her chin and her cheeks grow warm as a chuckle floats into her ears.

She chews diligently, taking extra care to get a good taste even though she has no clue what will distinguish a good tasting tomato from a bad tasting one.  
"Good?" Brittany asks her after she swallows and she nods honestly. The tomato tastes nice enough and certainly not 'yucky' as was promised.

Not wanting to appear too obvious with her ineptitude when it comes to food she quickly bites into the other tomato. She figures that as long as she doesn't have to talk chances are slim she will do something stupid.

The taste of this tomato surprises her. It's significantly different from the other one amazingly. The flavour of it is a a bit sweeter and in a way much richer than the previous one. It makes her let out an approving hum.

"Awesomesauce" the blonde says cheerfully in response and lets out one of her melodic little laughs for a second time.

Locking eyes with Brittany Santana takes another bite, feeling gleeful under her watchful eyes and pretty smile.

Their eye contact last for what seems like hours and the latina actually forgets to chew during it. She can't help but drown into the deep blue pools that just seem full of joy and sweetness and unicorns and rainbows. It sounds fucking ridiculous and cheesy in her mind but, damn it, it's how she feels.

Unfortunately though the moment gets rudely interrupted by a sudden loud beeping noise that makes Santana jump in her chair and Brittany blink lazily.

"Boo" the blonde mumbles before moving away and towards the offending oven that is making the annoying sound.

As she pulls it open the kitchen is filled with some steam and the distinct aroma of baked bread or dough.

It makes Santana's stomach grumble involuntarily and she smiles guiltily when the other woman glances at her. She know she should have eaten breakfast this morning but, like usual, she was too much in a rush to make anything let alone sit down and actually eat.

She continues munching on the tomato as she watches Brittany work. The chef is busy pulling small baguettes out of the oven with her – as it seems – heat resistant hands and placing them on a pan sheet.  
Then when the oven is empty she starts cutting open one of the breads sideways before reaching into the plastic bag again and pulling out two more tomatoes.

With amazement the latina gapes as chef Pierce chops up the tomatoes in under ten seconds without cutting off her own fingers.

After that is done the tomatoes get put on one half of the baguette and are quickly joined by some green stuff and something Santana recognizes as mozzarella.

Then, like she's some kind of angel, Brittany puts the sandwich in front of Santana and tells her to enjoy.

At this sweet gesture the latina blushes heavily, feeling all the more guilty for mistaking the chef's previous actions for creepiness.  
It finally makes her find her voice however as she speaks for the very first time since walking into the kitchen.

"Thanks" she forces out, her voice rough from having a dry throat. "You didn't have to..."

In response the blonde smiles at her sweetly for like the fiftieth time this morning. "Silly" she tells her "Of course I had too! You brought me coffee after all!" And with that she reaches out for the Starbucks cup still sitting next to Santana and takes a sip, letting out a small 'yum'.

The latina does not dare complain or tell the other woman the coffee wasn't actually intended for her. The last thing she wants is to wipe that smile that makes her feel giddy and silly at the same time from Brittany's face.  
So she just simply smiles back and takes a bite of the sandwich.

Not surprisingly it tastes really good.

They are silent for a while, both of them enjoying their food/beverage. It's not an uncomfortable silence however for which Santana is grateful and she takes the opportunity to – not so secretly – stare at the blonde.

She really likes the way the woman carries herself. She comes across as very confident and from the things Santana has seen she is a bit quirky, which she kind of loves. Also so far the blonde has been smiling every single time.

It makes her stomach tingle in ways it hasn't done before and she knows she will over think this fact over and over again for days but right now she can't do anything but ignore it and bathe in the moment.  
Even when those tingles increase thousand fold when chef Pierce suddenly takes a break from drinking her (or Santana's) coffee and tells her "by the way, you have a really pretty voice."

The way she says it and looks at her with those blue eyes of hers makes Santana feel like a shy five year old who is given a compliment and she is not sure how to react. Is the blonde just being nice to her or is this more of the flirty nature?  
Whichever of the two it is it makes her look away shyly, hoping to not have to respond in any way.

As she does so her gaze falls on the clock by accident and she is shocked to see that she has to be in her office in a mere eight minutes.

"Shit" she exclaims "I'm gonna be late for work!"

It seems like time has gotten away from her and has flown past since she has been here. Honestly she is kind of disappointed she has to go already because even though she hasn't really said much at all she really enjoyed herself these past twenty or so minutes.

As she gets up she is almost sure she sees this disappointment reflected on Brittany's face too but it's gone as soon as she realizes and she just receives a smile and an almost timid "bye".

It's when she's already halfway through the door with a hurried "goodbye chef Pierce" that Santana actually remembers why she was here in the first time.

"I'm sorry!" She thus blurts out, noticeably surprising and confusing Brittany. "For storming into your kitchen last week and thinking you were a stalker and for knocking your food over" she babbles, trailing off in a mumble as she reaches into her purse to look for her wallet. "How much did the food I ruined cost?"

"Silly Santana" the blonde tells her, letting the name roll off her tongue sweetly. "No need to pay me back. I drop stuff all the time! Once I even dropped a whole pan of pasta and then when Rachel walked in she slipped and fell on her butt and things were a huge mess!"

This makes Santana chuckle and judging by the smirk on Brittany's lips she too sees the humour in it.

"Are you sure?" she asks just to confirm, she feels a bit bad for not paying for the damages she caused.

"The surest" Brittany tells her with her trademark wide smile "now go! I don't want you to be late!"

It kicks the latina into gear and with a nod she makes her way out of the kitchen and through the little hallway again.

It's only when she is already on the street and a few feet away from the restaurant when she suddenly hears her name called.

Turning around she sees Brittany sticking her head out of the dock door. As she gives a little wave in acknowledgement the blonde yells out at her to feel free to visit again any morning she wants before giving a little dorky wave back and disappearing back into the building fully again.

It brings a spring in Santana's step for the rest of the walk to work and she's pretty sure that her smile won't disappear from her face fully for the whole day.

She will definitely be seeing chef Pierce again.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed!**

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Also feel free to message me for comments/questions/talks about the weather/ etc. **


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